


Silent Shepherd

by odiko_ptino



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17031018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Selene falls in love with a young man named Endymion.





	Silent Shepherd

Endymion is born and it’s immediately evident that something is amiss. He cries, when he’s born, as babies do – but his voice is strained and raspy and not really a voice at all. It’s just air.

Endymion is presented to his father, who hesitates. It’s Aethlios’ prerogative to leave the boy out to die, if he chooses. There’s certainly justification for it. The infant Endymion makes no sounds, other than the raspy voiceless cries.  He’s clearly and unfortunately defective.

And yet… the baby seems otherwise healthy. He feeds hungrily as a baby ought; all his limbs are well-formed; his eyes are clear. Aethlios has other sons. His inheritance and legacy is not tied up in Endymion. He allows the baby to live, to his wife Kalyke’s delight.

It’s a bittersweet relief to see his decision bear out over the years: Endymion seems to be perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’s fairly athletic and has an exceptionally beautiful face. He turns the heads of every traveler that passes through the village. But he does not turn the head of any local girl or man, which is a sorrow. Endymion is cursed never to speak, and this does not make him a desirable husband.

He tries – or at any rate, he did. As a child, he would strain and strain, turning red in the face as he tried to force sounds to come out. They never did. No words, no voice ever came to him. Only wheezing rasps and grunts. Eventually, he stopped trying.

It’s difficult to gauge how intelligent Endymion is. He’s easily capable of following the simple directions given to him: bring this basket to your mother; wash the pots before we eat.

But conversations with him are almost entirely one-sided, and limited at that. He was taught to read and write, and seems to be fairly adept at it, but the world is busy with its affairs, and it’s not often that anyone has the time or inclination to sit beside him and have an entire written conversation.

There isn’t much he can do that doesn’t involve some communication – he can’t lead men, can’t be a soldier, can’t buy or sell wares.

So it’s off to the fields with him, to be a shepherd in the hills. It’s an occupation with dignity enough, no overt insult to the boy. But it’s a lonely life. Endymion is gone for weeks at a time, alone in the wilderness with his sheep and his dog and his pipes…..

…and the moon overhead.

—————————————————–

Endymion understands everything that is said to him, around him, and – painfully – about him.  This is the most tragic aspect of his disability; there is nothing whatsoever impairing his ability to comprehend the words thrown around casually by everyone else.  And yet, because his throat does not respond to his urgent attempts to speak, he is treated as a simpleton, even by people who know him well enough to know better.  

He spends his days and nights in solitude in the fields.  No company but the occasional off-road traveler, who tend to swiftly move on when they see the shepherd is a simpleton who can only gesture oddly in response to questions.  

The sheep aren’t much in the way of company.  They mostly ignore him, and don’t provide much in the way of entertaining his sharp mind.

His dog, Odigós, is beloved and loyal.  He trains her to respond to whistles and gestures.  She, alone of all the creatures that walk the earth, communicates with him in this way.  While anyone else might think of her as an ordinary dog, of average intelligence for the species, to Endymion she is the single lifeline he has to communicating to the world.  

It’s unsurprising, then, that his first story features her.

———————————————–

Selene is aware of the shepherd boy, in the distracted way she is aware of any person out beneath the moon at night.  Like her brother Helios and her sister Eos, she can see all that fall under her allotted time in the sky.  But there are many, many mortals on the earth, and quite a few of them are shepherds, so she doesn’t immediately take much notice.  

She might not have noticed him at all, in fact, had he not offered up the most unusual prayer to her one night.

It’s barely even a prayer, or not in the manner she’s accustomed to: he asks for nothing but an audience, and even that request is unwitting.  Endymion is laying back one night, one hand absently patting his sleeping dog, and watching Selene, up in the sky.

He begins to speak to her.

Not speech, though, not exactly.  It’s all in his mind, for one thing; thoughts, carried up to her silently. And it’s unorthodox in pattern as well. Although the boy understands verbal speech well enough, he has never had an ability or need to express himself this way, so his communication takes the form of mostly pictures… concepts, actions, with a few stray words attached, mostly as names.  

Bored and seeking a way to keep his mind occupied, Endymion is idly looking up at the moon and telling her a story:

_A dog, humble Odigós of the wheat-colored hair, is approached by a wolf!  Scary, huge, matted gray fur, giant teeth!  Wolves are enemies of dogs as everyone knows, though they might have been brothers once.  Clash of two noble races of canine: wolves attack sheep, dogs drive wolves away._

_Odigós snarls, ready to fight this invader, but the wolf holds up a paw – wait, Odigós, listen to my plea!  Wolves don’t want to eat sheep.  They only must because a fearsome dragon has taken over the wolves’ forest. The dragon is enormous, the size of a barn – no, two barns next to each other!  Glittery green-black-brown scales, nearly invisible in the dark forest, until two golden eyes open and by then it’s too late to run away.  It breathes fire enough to burn the forest if it chooses; it can eat a sheep or a wolf or even a boy in one gulp; its roar makes Gaia tremble._

_The wolves are weary from fighting such a beast.  They need a new hero – a clever hero like Odigós to save them._

_I’ll do it, Odigós barks, and runs straight to the dragon, fearlessly._

_It’s obvious that Odigós, while utterly brave, cannot fight a monster like this terrible dragon.  It’s so enormous, it would surely give Zeus himself pause.  So Odigós comes up with a clever plan.  She rushes about, barking excitedly and chasing her tail to show how happy she is, and shouts about what delicious sheep there are in the land of TÍpota!!  Sheep the size of cows, cows the size of wagons!  Such bounty of delicious animals, no wolf will ever go hungry again!!_

_Naturally, the dragon wants sheep the size of cows, and cows the size of wagons!  It goes at once to see this place – but of course, TÍpota has nothing there.  No sheep, no cows, nothing but rocks.  The dragon is angry at being tricked and tries to go back – but clever Odigós, an excellent digger, has busily dug a trench all around TÍpota, filled with water, cutting off the dragon’s return._

_Clever Odigós, the wolves cry.  Clever and brave!  Savior of all wolves!  We will make peace with dogs now!_

_That first wolf that approached Odigós turns out to be the Prince of Wolves, and married Odigós, who is now a Princess.  Lord Apollo himself, god of the wolves, blesses their marriage and places a constellation of a dog in the sky for all to see._

Endymion barely makes it to the end of his story before he falls asleep.  Not much of a prayer, truth be told.  Selene is fairly certain he doesn’t realize the story reached her – that any time a mortal directs their thoughts at a god, that god is capable of hearing.  

But whether or not he knows it, the prayer-story was addressed to Selene, and she finds it charming.

She takes more notice of him, from then on – Endymion the silent shepherd, and his faithful, brave dog Odigós.  

————————————

She is not the only deity to notice him; but she is a member of a minority.  He does not do enough grand deeds to catch the attention of a god like Zeus or Athena.  Apollo almost certainly would have taken an interest if Endymion had directed his stories to the sun (assuming Apollo was there, rather than Helios); but for whatever reason, the boy only tells his tales at night.  Same with Hermes, though he would have also delighted in such a novel form of communication.  The stories are for her, and her alone.  

The other one to take an interest is Hermes’ strange and wild son, Pan.  Pan ‘takes an interest’ in practically anything that moves, but he does have a special fondness for shepherds, who willingly isolate themselves out in the wilderness.  

Pan has two methods of introducing himself, which are different depending on whether he’s in one of the maenad mobs with Dionysus, versus when he’s being polite.  ‘Polite,’ for him, means announcing himself with a terrifying shriek.

It’s the other thing he’s famous for – the panic-inducing scream, which sends terror through the stoutest heart and even frightened the mighty Typhon.  He’s learned by now that the gods are not the best targets for this joke – their godly tempers lead him to seek other victims – but he still thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever to watch the mortals freak the fuck out when they hear it.  

He spies Endymion, late one night, reclining against a tree as he watches the sky overhead.  His dog is not immediately nearby, but has joined a cluster of sheep as they get a drink from a nearby spring.  

Pan sneaks up behind the shepherd, cloven hooves silent on summer grass, and unleashes his scream.  The scream echoes through the hills, frightening birds from their trees and causing an alarmed stampede from the frantically baa’ing sheep.

Endymion shoots straight vertical into the air, at least several feet, and lands with a thump on the ground, whirling around with wild eyes and mussed hair.

Pan is rolling on the ground laughing – by Ouranos’ mighty balls, it never gets old!  The kid is making the funniest wide-eyed face, knife out, still not sure what the hell just happened… the sheep are still running around bleating in terrified outrage (and the panicked baas of a flock of sheep is very funny shit, second only to the noise a cat makes when it’s startled). In the distance, the dog is barking, doubtless on its way back to ensure its master’s safety.

There’s a bit of chaos, so it takes Pan a moment to realize that there is only one creature present who is not contributing to the cacophony.

His giggles taper off and he looks quizzically over at the shepherd, who is breathing hard but not yelling at Pan as one might expect, or asking stupid questions about who Pan is and why he’s there… and, Pan’s pretty sure the shepherd never even yelled in his fright.

The rustic god isn’t particularly well known for being a genius – no one, Pan included, would compare him to Athena, for example – and yet, his father is clever Hermes, and the trickster god’s children are nearly all cunning little rascals.  Thus, Pan is more than capable of swiftly assembling the facts and arriving at a conclusion.

“Huh.  You don’t got a lot to say, do you?”

He’s met with a strikingly unimpressed scowl and forbiddingly crossed arms as the shepherd regains his wits and realizes who he’s dealing with.  Pan laughs again, delightedly.  “Okay, scratch that, you  _do_  got a lot to say!  And I’m lucky I can’t hear it, is that right?”

The shepherd assumes a haughtier stance than a god might normally tolerate from a mortal, but Pan allows it – he doesn’t stand on formality as much as the other gods, and the boy has to express himself somehow.  Now he’s letting Pan know his little joke was  _not funny_.

“Oh, please.  That was  _hysterical_.  You must have cleared two meters into the air!”

The dog arrives at this point, hackles raised and growling, though it trails off in confusion as it takes in the scene – nonthreatening stances from both Master and Intruder; some general air of mirth; a lack of overt concern from the shepherd.  

The boy makes a  _wheet-wheeeo_  whistle and flings an arm in the direction of the scattered sheep.  The dog gives one more warning glare to Pan before running off as instructed.

“It’s a good dog,” Pan comments, not particularly caring about the dog but wanting to soothe the kid’s ego somewhat.  “Got here pretty fast.  How many commands did you teach it?”

It works; the shepherd looks pleased.  He holds his hands up, both palms open, showing ten fingers – five times, then with three fingers held up.  “Fifty-three?”  That’s pretty good, especially a young dog – but then again, they’re both out here in the fields all day every day, with not much else to do.  Pan suspects that a mute boy might be fonder of another non-verbal creature, more than an average shepherd.

“Well, look.  You’re right.  It was so mean of me to play such a trick on you.”  The shepherd immediately looks suspicious, but Pan persists anyway.  “Let me make it up to you.  I know all about you shepherds, out here, bored and lonesome, nothing but a smart dog and dumb sheep for company.  We can pass the time, give you something to think about later… uh…”

An ominous storm cloud is rolling up across the sky, moving faster than a cloud normally might.  It positions itself alongside the moon and a few lightning bolts flash threateningly across the cumulonimbus.

The cunning son of Hermes knows a sign when he sees it.

“…Actually… let me take a rain check on that.  Enjoy the rest of your night!”

He scarpers off to the cover of the trees, leaving behind the bewildered shepherd.  “Don’t zap me, Zeus, he’s all yours!”

A rumble like thunder rolls through the air.  A mortal like that shepherd probably only hears the thunder; but the rustic god hears the voice behind it:

_Hey, it’s not me this time, Pan; Selene told me to chase you off. Better luck next time, buddy._

——————————–

Pan, unlike most of the rest of the gods, isn’t one for holding grudges.  What’s the use of it?  There’s always a different pretty face to tumble in the grass; always a new party to crash; always another cup of wine to drink.

So he’s in fine spirits as he waits for Selene to set, as Eos skips through the sky and breaks the dawn. The moon’s glow fades as the night ends, though her frown is nearly as luminous.

“So!”  He greets her cheerfully.  “ _Soooooooooo_.”

“Wipe that smug look off your face,” she says, somehow managing to sound grumpy and elegant at the same time.

“Got a little thing for the silent shepherd, eh?  Eh??”

“You interrupted his prayers to me, you demented little pervert,” she scolds, crossing her arms.

Pan only grins cheekily at her.  “Oh,  _prayers_?  Is that what we’re calling it?  If you insist, O Graceful Lady of the Moon.”  

A while ago, Selene had deigned to indulge him when he’d tried to win her over with his charming ways; they have an amiable relationship now as former lovers.  She has more of a dirty mind than anyone would think, given her gentle appearance and reserved mannerisms; but as the Moon, she has witnessed any number of nocturnal intimacies and taken an interest in many of them.   She and Pan have spoken frankly about them before.

So he’s surprised now, when she colors slightly, biting her lip and looking away.  “They  _are_  prayers.  Mostly.  He looks to me and tells me tales… only to me.”

He raises his eyebrows at her; she blushes deeper.  “You’ve just… been listening to him tell stories?”

“They’re special stories! He tells them only to me.”

“You made Zeus chase me off for story-time?  You haven’t even made a move yet?”

“ _Some_  of us prefer to savor the palate.  Not gulp it down like a greedy pig!”  Selene tosses her head haughtily, but with a certain defeated air.

“Ohhh,  _Selene_ …!!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You’re in looooooove!”

“Not that it’s any of your business!”

“Come here.  Sit upon my knee and tell Uncle Pan all about it.”

“Eww, Pan!”  She remains standing, but she’s laughing. Everyone loves Pan.  “Look, it’s just… he’s… different.”

“Mmmhmm?”

“He doesn’t use words. It’s like he sends pictures to me, mental paintings that tell the story…”

“Right?”

“And, it makes me happy just listening to them.”

He coos theatrically. “Awww, Selene!!  I feel like I’m watching my little girl grow up!”

She scoffs.  “I’m considerably older than you, you rascal!”

“Well, I’ll stay out of your way… I expect Aphrodite or her kid are gonna be along soon enough, and too many chefs spoil the broth or whatever.”

“Ugh.”

“Just let me know when you  _do_  make your move, so I can come watch the show, okay?”

“Get out of here, idiot!”

—————————–

Time passes.  Endymion continues his nightly stories to the moon. They become more elaborate, more complex:

…The Amazon warrior Alcippe, who must climb the ice mountains far to the north in order to rescue her true love – the nymph Karya, the chestnut dryad.  Karya was held captive by one of the barbarians of the northern lands – the nymph could transform into a tree to escape him, but she has faith that her lover Alcippe will arrive at last, so she holds out. Alcippe manages to fight off the barbarian at last, only to be stabbed at the last minute by the cowardly kidnapper! She lies dying in her lover’s arms, until – Karya feeds her a magical chestnut, splitting her immortality with the Amazon.  With this gift, the two women survive and grow old together.

… the greedy pirate, who seeks to obtain a magic ring, possessed by a wicked monster of the deep ocean. This ring gives the ability to breathe underwater.  The pirate chases the beast for years, and along the way in his quest, he finds himself having to help others to proceed.  He helps relocate the people of a fishing village from a flood; he rescues a prince stranded on an island with harpies; he builds a scarecrow big enough to scare off a giant terrorizing a kingdom.  Over time he becomes a better person, and at last when he catches the sea-beast, it stops and gives him the ring, revealing himself to be the handsome son of Poseidon all along, who welcomes him down to the underwater kingdom.

…the lady archer who was an excellent shot even as a child.  There is no target she cannot hit – any distance, moving or stationary, she can strike it.  The only problem?  She is too soft-hearted to hunt.  She shot and killed a hind once and wept about it for hours afterwards, and vowed never to kill another living creature.  In the course of time, Lady Artemis heard of the archer’s skill and suggested they have a contest, and against all targets the archer excelled. Even the wild huntress goddess was impressed and offered her a place in her retinue.  With a broken heart, the archer declined, because of her vow.  But Lady Artemis would not hear otherwise, and took her to the forest anyway, there to shoot every stray snowflake or raindrop from the sky if it fell out of season.

Some of the stories are retellings of things he’s heard from others, but he’s around other people so rarely, that his stories are usually unique to his imagination.  And listening to them is what makes it truly unique – his disjointed and colorful scenes are connected with little of the exposition that one might get from a traditional storyteller.  Selene simply receives a series of vivid moving images, and a certain context that comes from seeing them.  She’s never seen anything like it.  

Night after night, she begins her journey across the sky.  Night after night, the shepherd directs his story-prayers to the Moon above.  

The imp Pan is right – she  _is_  falling in love with this odd boy.  

She isn’t sure why she’s hesitating to make herself known to him.  He’s old enough, and handsome.  She’s quite certain that he hasn’t had any luck with the local ladies, all put off by his silence and the peculiar mannerisms he develops after months of solitude; so he might welcome her attentions.  If nothing else, he’d surely welcome the company.  

And yet she hesitates. Selene seen the tragic endings of so many different god-mortal loves.  The mortals so often get hurt – either physically, or emotionally.  She doesn’t think she could bear to see this sweet boy, with his hopeful and creative stories, become corrupted by bitterness, or jealousy.  

Better, perhaps, that she stays here in the sky, and lets him stay down there on the ground – they can remain in a kind of stasis as long as possible, where nothing changes, and every night is theirs to cherish.  

It isn’t until she’s approached by Hypnos that she comes to see how much further things have progressed than she realized.


End file.
